Refuge From Reality
by Gloria Bryant
Summary: Thirteen years after the Labyrinth experience, Sarah Williams is now a semi-successful Boston psychiatrist. Her life seems to have some order now..until a new patient with an all-too-familiar story dredges up a memory that Sarah has dismissed as a dream.


Untitled 

.Disclaimer: Sarah, the Labyrinth, and all that stuff isn't mine. It belongs to some other brilliant person who isn't me. So....yeah. 

Author's Note: This is a story I've wanted to write for a really long time. Its my first Labyrinth fic, so its not very good, but hey, its a work-in-progress. I love reviews, even flames, but if you MUST flame me, please be eloquent about it! ~G.B. 

It was a glorious spring day, a day left over from Eden. A slight breeze rippled through the lilac-perfumed air, gently caressing the ivory petals of the magnolia blooms. Stately magnolia trees lined the cobblestone sidewalk like a procession of aubergine-clad brides. A young woman walked along this idyllic walkway, revelling in its beauty. She closed her eyes briefly, breathing in the fresh, ambrosial air and tuning into the beeping of car horns, the melodies of street musicians, and the myriads of different conversations; the music of the city. Opening her eyes again, she drak in the sunshine, her heart bursting with euphoria. In Sarah's opinion, Boston in the springtime was the most beautiful place on earth. She raised her arm to gently stroke the soft petals of the overhanging magnolias, stifling the urge to pick the blossoms. Slinging her heavy purse over her shoulder, Sarah continued her stroll. 

Rain or shine, summer or winter, Dr. Sarah Williams always walked to work. She didn't own a car, deeming it unnecessary for one who lives in a city. She used to take the L occasionally, but once, a couple of months ago, someone had pinched her rather hard on the rear as she was exiting the train, causing her to swear off public transportation. "Besides," she thought with a smile, "its so much more picturesque when you walk." 

She turned onto Marlborough Street, although this route was considerably longer than her usual one. Out of all the streets in Boston, Marlborough Street was by far her favorite. The magnolias were particularly prominent there, adorning each small front lawn and lining each sidewalk like the lacy trim of a ball gown. The buildings, like many Bostonian buildings, were old-fashioned and ornate, with decorative overhangs and moldings. Sarah thought that it looked like something right out of Johnny Tremain with its old-fashioned elegance. 

Finally, her walk took her to the large, attractive building where she worked. She entered the main lobby and, taking a deep breath, she climbed up the long flight of stairs that lead to her office on the second-to-top floor. There was, of course, an elevator in the building, but Sarah had recently developed a severe claustrophobia, which ruled out elevators as an option. She finally arrived at her hoffice door, which took quite a lot of effort to push open. Making a mental note to get the door fixed, Sarah stepped into her simple office "lobby," smiling at her secretary. "'Morning, Lena," she said aimably. 

"Hey Sarah," replied Lena without looking up. She opened her desk drawer and, after fishing around for a while, produced a half-empty package of Nicorette. She popped a piece into her mouth, chewing loudly. "I left some patient files on your desk, okay? You don't have any appointments today, so we get to have fun sorting through papers and shit," muttered the secretary, sliding her chair out from behind the desk and leaning her head over the back to glance at Sarah. 

"Sounds like a blast," called Sarah from her office as she opened one of the cumbersome files that lay on her disorganized desktop. "Lena...I don't remember this one. Did you forget to mention a new patient to me?" 

"Oh...that..." Lena chomped nervously on her gum, her jaw moving with the slow motions of a cow chewing on a cud. "Yeah, it is a new patient. Her mother called last night to make an appointment for this week. I forgot to tell you 'cause it was sorta late....sorry, Sarah." 

"It's all right, Lena. Did the mother mention any specifics on the phone? Because the only papers in here appear to be medical files, nothing regarding any previous psychiatric visits." Sarah's familiar, pleasant tone had disappeared, and was replaced with her professional, no-nonsense psychiatrist voice; the voice that made Lena cringe. 

"The mom sounded pretty upset...she didn't really mention anything specific, but from what she said, this girl seems like a real nutcase." 

Sarah winced at Lena's choice of words. She'd been Sarah's secretary for almost two years now, and Sarah wished ardently that Lena would stop using such crude terms as "nutcase" and "loony" when speaking of the patients. The psychiatrist seated herself at her desk and flipped through the new patient's file, her eyes widening as she read the medical transcripts. "Attempted suicide....danger of anorexia..." she murmured, biting her lip as she read each horrible paper. "Rachel Harrison, age 16. Another teenage suicide case...." Sarah lifted herself from her chair and walked into her office lobby. "What day is this girl's appointment, Lena? 

"Wednesday, 11:00. Well? Is she a total lunatic, or just so-so?" 

"I haven't even spoken to the girl yet, Lena. How can I possibly know that?" 

"Well, her medical records looked pretty sketchy..." 

"Lena! You looked through the file?" 

"Oh.....well, just for a minute.....I'm sorry, Sarah." Lena's face held a sheepish, guilty expression as she looked up at Sarah. 

The doctor closed her eyes for a moment, rubbing her temples. "Its...all right...Lena...just...don't...do...it...again." 

After what seemed like the longest day she'd ever spent at work, Sarah walked back home, carrying the Harrison file under her arm. When she arrived back at her apartment, she fell onto her old, worn-out couch and sighed. "What am I going to do with Lena..." she muttered with annoyance as she sat up, tapping the "play" button on her answering machine. There was only one message from her younger brother, Toby. He wanted her to come back home for the weekend to celebrate their father's birthday. Sarah pressed the "save" button.....she'd call back tomorrow. She pulled the heavy file folder onto her lap and scanned the papers, shaking her head sadly. She hated to work with teenagers, particularly suicidal ones. It always made her so sad when she was finished, so sad to think of these young people who were so eager to bring an end to it all. These cases also brought back memories of her own teenage years, memories of the girl who lived in her own little dream world, the girl who despised reality and sought refuge in the fantasy land inside her own mind. "Maybe I would have benefitted from some psychological help," murmured Sarah wryly, smiling a bit. She lay back on her couch, burying her head in the soft pillows. 

Suddenly, without warning, images began to race through her mind.....images of a desperate young girl running through a maze, of goblins and fairies and swamps that smelled like the depths of hell themselves. Images of a man...a coldly beautiful man with a sardonic smirk that made her blood run cold. These were memories she had tried so desperately to erase, to dismiss as a dream. "That's what it was, Sarah...it was just a dream. Nothing more!" she cried, raising herself from the couch and walking into her kitchen. She reached into her small refrigerator and extracted a bottle of champagne and a carton of orange juice. She prepared a mimosa and returned to the couch, sipping her drink with relief. "Here's to Sarah Williams, Ph.D, who solves her problems through the use of alcohol. How very psychologically sound that is!" Gulping down the rest of her mimosa, she lay back down, closing her heavy eyelids and drifting off into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

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